A Chain of Short Stories about Their Distance
by Kurusu Kakeru
Summary: Kakeru and Miku, two very close friends and classmates, are torn apart when Miku's family is transferred to another region of Japan due to her family's job. Despite separation, they continue to keep in touch through the mail. When Kakeru finds out that his family is also moving, he decided to meet with Miku one last time. Based on 5 Centimeters Per Second.
1. Act 1: Cherry Blossom - Part 1 -

**Note:** The story is set in Japan beginning of the 1990s. This first act takes place during a time when cell phones are uncommon and email has not yet reached the general population.

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><p>"Hey, it looks just like snow," Miku had said.<p>

It was seventeen years ago when she said that. We had just become elementary six students and we would always walk together around the small grove on our way home with our schoolbags on our little backs. It was spring and a countless number of cherry blossoms were in full bloom on the trees, their petals dancing soundlessly in the air, covering the asphalt beneath our feet in a blanket of white. The air was warm and the sky hung overhead as if it has been a great canvas covered with light blue paint. Not far from us ran the main road and the Odasaki railroad crossing, but none of its noise seemed to reach us. Only the chirping of birds could be heard as if a blessing from spring. There was no one else was around.

It was as if it has been just a painting of a certain spring scene.

That's right. At least in my memories that moment of time was like a painting. You could say they were just a collection of images. When I try to gather those old memories, I feel as if I'm gazing from outside a frame at a little distance. The young man had only just turned eleven and so was the girl who was around the same height as he was. I gaze at their figures as they run into the distance, the light that filled the world enveloped them naturally. I was always watching them from behind in that painting. And every time it would always be the young girl who ran ahead first. When I remember that short moment of sadness that shivered the young man's heart, it makes even I who was now an adult feel just a little sad.

In any case, I remember how Miku had described the shower of cherry blossom petals were like snow. But I never saw it that way. At that time, cherry blossoms were just cherry blossoms and snow was just snow to me.

"Hey, it looks just like snow."

"It does? Hmm, maybe it does…"

"Oh, never mind," Miku said coldly walking two steps ahead quickly before turning around. Her unique turquoise hair shone as the light from the sky reflected off it and once again, she said something mysterious.

"Hey, I heard they fall at five centimeters per second."

"What?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know."

"Come on; think about it, Kakeru-kun."

I still didn't know what she was talking about so I just honestly told her I didn't know.

"It's the speed cherry blossom petals fall at. They fall at five centimeters per second."

Five centimeters per second... It had a mysterious ring to it. I let her know how fascinated I was,

"Whoa, you know a lot of these things don't you, Miku."

"He-he," Miku smiled happily.

"There's a lot I know. Rain falls at five centimeters per second. Clouds fall at one centimeter per second."

"...Clouds? You mean the clouds in the sky?"

"Yes, the clouds in the sky."

"Clouds fall too? Don't they just float?"

"Clouds fall too. They don't float because they're composed of water vapor. It only looks like they're floating because they're so big and so far away. As the vapor expands in the clouds they grow bigger and bigger and then they fall to the surface as rain or snow."

"Wow…" I said as I gazed up at the clouds in fascination and then back at the cherry blossoms again. Miku's young cheery, pleasant voice made it sound as if it was an important rule of the universe. Five centimeters per second...

"Wow…" she repeated, teasing me and suddenly broke into a run.

"Hey wait, Miku!" I cried as I ran after her.

During that moment of time, it was a habit of Miku and I to exchange little bits of knowledge we learned from books and watching TV as we returned home. Little bits of knowledge that we thought were important – things such as the speed flower petals fell at, the age of the universe or the temperature silver melted in. It was as if we were a pair of squirrels desperately preparing for our winter hibernation, or perhaps we were travelers sailing the seas trying to learn astrology so that we could gather the starlight scattered around the world. For some reason, we had seriously thought these little bits of knowledge we're going to be essential in our future lives.

Yes. That was why both Miku and I knew so much. We knew what position the stars were in during the seasons, or in which direction and brightness Jupiter must be in before it was visible to the naked eye. We even knew why the sky was blue, why the earth had seasons, when did the

Neanderthals disappear and the names of the species that became extinct during the Cambrian Period. We were both extremely fascinated by everything that was much bigger and far away from us. But for me, I've forgotten most of it all. All I know is that they were bits of knowledge that I once knew where the truth to me.


	2. Act 1: Cherry Blossom - Part 2 -

From the moment I first met Miku until the moment we separated I thought we were both alike – that was around three years between elementary four and six. Both of our fathers relocated a lot due to work and we had both arrived at the same elementary school in Tokyo. I had moved to Tokyo from Nagano when I was in elementary three and Miku moved from Shizuoka while she was in elementary four. Even now I remember how tense and nervous she looked as she stood in front of the blackboard on her first day at school. She stood there; hands clasped neatly together in front of her as the spring light shone through the classroom windows on her, casting a shadow from her shoulder up all the way to her long hair. Her lips were nervously pursed together bright red, her unblinking eyes wide open as her line of sight was fixed onto a single spot before her. She reminded me of my own expression when I arrived a year ago and immediately I felt we were closer to each other. I think I was the one that spoke to her first and we quickly got along.

Miku was the only one who had the same strong opinions as I did – about how students who were brought up in Setagaya seemed more mature, how hard it was to breathe within the crowds at the station, how surprisingly unpleasant tap water tasted. To us, they were all problems. We were small and were prone to falling ill, so we preferred staying in the library than being in the playgrounds and that was why physical education classes were very unpleasant for us. Both Miku and I were like adults who preferred to enjoy having a conversation with someone or to read a book. At the time my father was working at a bank and we were living in a company owned apartment and, perhaps it was the same for Miku which was why we went the same way back home. Naturally as if we needed each other, we always spent our breaks and after school time together.

Of course, we were teased by many of our classmates a lot. Now that I look back, the way they acted and the things they said to us were really just something kids commonly do, but at that time, I couldn't really handle those situations very well and every time something happened, I was hurt. We had the need for each other grew stronger because of that.

One day, something happened. I had gone to the toilet and was on my way back to the classroom when I saw Miku standing alone in front of the blackboard. On the board there was a drawing of an umbrella with both Miku and my own name written underneath (that could be considered harassment now I think about it), while her classmates were standing afar murmuring to each other, staring at Miku. She had gone up to the blackboard trying to stop their harassment, but was probably too embarrassed and had stopped half way. I grew stiff at the sight of her standing like that and without a word I walked into the classroom, grabbed the duster and quickly wiped off the drawing. I didn't know why, but I grabbed Miku's hand and we ran out of the classroom. We could hear the voices behind us getting excited, but we ignored them and continued running. Even I couldn't believe how bold I was to do what I did, but I remembered how the softness of Miku's hand made my heart throb so hard, I was almost dizzy and for the first time, I felt there was nothing in the world to be afraid of. I was sure many more bad things were still to come in the rest of our lives, but no matter what it was – whether it was transferring between schools, taking exams, going to a foreign land or feeling uneasy meeting new people, as long as Miku was there I would be able to endure it all. I think we were still too young to call it love, but at the time, it was clear I liked Miku and I could clearly feel that Miku liked me too. As we ran with our hands held tightly together, the more I was certain of that feeling. As long as we had each other no matter what was going to happen, we strongly believed there was nothing to be frightened of.

For three years those feelings continued to stay strong as Miku and I spent time together. We both decided we would attend the same junior high school that wasn't far from our residences and studied hard, spending more and more time together. We probably became aware of how more mentally mature we were than other children and that we were introverted, caught up in our own little world but we were convinced it was all part of preparing ourselves for our junior high school life. We were going to graduate from elementary school away from the classmates we didn't get along with and start a whole new junior high life with new students and our world was going to grow bigger. We also hoped that it would help us clearly ascertain and express the strong feelings we had for each other. It might be the time when we will be able to express our love to each other. The distance between us and our surroundings, the distance between Miku and I would surely grow smaller. We were going to have more power and we were going to have more freedom.

Now that I think about it, perhaps we knew that we were going to lose something when we kept exchanging bits of knowledge with each other. Clearly we were captivated by each other and wished to be together forever but – perhaps it was because we transferred schools so many times – we knew at the same time that that wish couldn't come true and felt fear in our hearts. Maybe we tried to leave as much memory of ourselves with each other because we knew one day we wouldn't be together any more.

Indeed in the end, Miku and I were separated and attended different junior high schools. One winter night when we were still in elementary six, Miku called to let me know.

It was rare for Miku to call because we hardly ever talked to each other by phone and it was late (at the time anyway which was around nine o'clock). I had a bad feeling when my mother told me it was Miku and handed the phone to me.

"I'm sorry, Kakeru-kun," Miku said in a tiny little voice. What followed were words that I didn't want to hear or believe.

We can't go to the same junior high school anymore, she said. She said her father had decided to move to a small town in the northern part of Kantou to work. She was shaking as if she was going to cry. I just couldn't understand why. I suddenly felt something burning inside, but my head felt cold. I just couldn't understand why Miku had to tell me this.

"What… but what about Nishinaka High? They've already accepted you there," I finally managed to say.

"He says he will arrange for me to go to Tochigi… I'm sorry."

I could hear the sound of a car driven by in the background which meant she was calling from a public telephone box. Even though I was in my room, I sat down on the tatami mat, hugging my knees as if I could feel the coldness from there creeping into my fingers. I didn't know what I should have said to her but felt I had to say something.

"No, it's not your fault Miku…"

"I told him I wanted to stay with my aunt in Katsushika so that I could stay but he said I had to be older first…"

As I heard Miku try hard to stop herself from crying, I suddenly wanted to hang up because I didn't want to hear it.

Before I knew it, I had cried out loudly to her, "…I know what you're saying already!" I could hear her gasp yet, it didn't stop me from continuing.

"Forget about it…" I said to her in a firm voice. "Just forget about it…" I repeated desperately trying to hold back my own tears. Why… Why did it always have to turn out this way?

After ten seconds of silence Miku managed to say "sorry" again with her sobbing voice. I kept the phone pressed hard against my ear with my head hanging down. I couldn't take it away from my ear and I couldn't hang up either. I knew what I had said over the phone had hurt Miku. But there was nothing I could do. I hadn't learned how to control my feelings at the time. After the unpleasant call I had with Miku finally ended, I just sat there hugging my knees.

Over the next couple of days, I felt very bad. I was very ashamed of myself that I didn't manage to say anything nice to Miku even though I knew she must have been very worried. With such feelings still lingering in our minds, Miku and I separated awkwardly on the day of our graduation ceremony. That day right after the ceremony, she had approached me and said in her pleasant voice, "So this is farewell…" but I had hung my head in shame, unable to say anything back. I had thought to myself it couldn't be helped. I had depended upon Miku up until now. I had planned on trying to become more mature because she was going to be there with me but now I couldn't. I was still very much a young child. I thought, to myself I can't stay like this forever and let an invisible force take everything away from me. Even if Miku had no choice, we weren't supposed to be separated like this. We were never supposed to be separated.

Those unsuppressed feelings remained with me as the new junior high semester began. I had to face those uncomfortable new days alone, even if I didn't want to. Even though I should have been attending the same school with Miku, I began attending alone, slowly making new friends, joining the soccer club and working hard. The days were a lot busier than my elementary school days, but that was good for me because it kept my mind occupied. When I had time alone, I would feel very uncomfortable just like in the past and clearly I couldn't bare the feeling at all. That was why I tried to stay proactive by spending most of my time with friends, went straight to bed as soon as I finished my homework and woke up early so that I could focus on training at my club.

I was sure Miku too was busying herself everyday at her new home. I wished those days would help her forget about me. I was the one that hurt her when we parted after all. I too should have forgotten about Miku. We should have learned how to do that by now after all our experiences of transferring schools so many times and being separated from others.

Then one summer day, during the hot days, a letter arrived from Miku.

I remember when I saw that light pink envelope stuck amongst the row of apartment mailboxes I had felt more confused than happy. I thought to myself, why now? I had been so determined to get used to a world without Miku. The letter from Miku made me remember just how much I missed her.

Yes, instead of trying to forget about Miku, my mind was suddenly filled with nothing but her. I had made many friends, but every time I was with them, they made me realise just how special Miku was to me. I would confine myself in my room reading her letter over and over again. Even during classes I would secretly slip it in between my textbook so that I could gaze at it. I read it so many times I could almost remember the letter off by heart.

"Dear Kurusu Kakeru," the letter began. It was such a nostalgic feeling seeing Miku's neat handwriting again.

"It has been such a long time. How are you? The summer weather is very hot here, but I'm sure it's a lot easier to bear than Tokyo. But now that I think about it, I prefer the humid, hot summers in Tokyo more - the hot asphalt that looks as if it's about to melt, the high rise buildings in the heat and the almost freezing air conditioning of the apartments and underground stations."

Funnily enough, in between the mature writing were tiny little illustrations (like the sun or cicadas) which made me imagine what the young Miku I once knew was like now as she was growing up slowly. It was a very short letter that told me how she was doing. She told me how she went to her new school by the four carriage trains, how she joined the basketball club, to keep fit and how she decided to cut her hair short so that it was now only down to her ear. Surprisingly it all unsettled me. She didn't write that she missed me and from her words I could tell that her new life was going well and she was getting used to it. But somehow, I had no doubt that she would have felt very sad if she wrote that she missed me or wanted to talk to me. If that wasn't so, she never would have written a letter to me. I felt exactly the same way towards her.

Since then, Miku and I exchanged letters once a month. I felt it was a lot easier going about my life than before. For example, I could clearly admit boring lessons were boring. Since being separated from Miku, I had just thought all the harsh training and unreasonable instructions that my senior trainers gave me were just the way things were but now I could feel it was all a little unbearable. My feelings were back. Strangely, it was because I could feel that way that it all became easier to endure. We never wrote about our displeasures or silly things that happened during our days, but we could strongly feel that there was only one other person in this world that could understand us.

The summer and autumn of our first year at junior high soon passed and it was now winter. I had turned thirteen, was taller by seven centimeters, grown more muscular and no longer caught the cold as easily as before. I felt as if I had become relatively closer to the world. I'm sure Miku too was thirteen now. Every time I looked at my female classmates in their uniform, I would imagine how Miku may look like now. Once she had written that she wanted to see the cherry blossoms again with me someday just like we did when we were in elementary school. She said there was a large cherry blossom tree near her home. She wrote, "I'm sure the flower petals there fall to the ground at five centimeters too."

I was in my third semester when it was decided I was going to transfer schools again.

I was going to move during the next spring break and it was going to be Kagoshima, an island near the region of Kyushu. It takes about a two hour flight from the Tokyo, Haneda airport to get there. To me, it was no different than living at the edge of the world. But by that time, I was used to such changes in my life and wasn't worried about it at all. My main concern was my distance from Miku. Since leaving elementary school neither of us had met, but we weren't really that far away from each other when I thought about it. It was only a three hour train journey to travel between Northern Kansai where Miku was and the Tokyo where I lived. We could have met up with each other during Saturdays. But once I move to the southern point of Japan, I may never be able to see her again.

That was why I decided to write to Miku and let her know that I wanted to see her one more time before I moved. I suggested a list of places and time where we could meet. She replied promptly. We both had exams for the third semester. I had to prepare for the relocation and she had club activities to participate in so it wasn't until after the last lesson at the end of the semester that we could meet at night. After we checked our schedules, we decided that we could meet at a station near her home at seven o'clock. That way I could skip my club activities and set off straight after class then after spending two hours with Miku, I could take the last train home. In any case, as long as I could get back home on the same day, I'd be able to think of some excuse to explain to my parents. I'd have to take the train on the Oda and Saikyou lines, then switch to the train on the Utsu to Ryouke line to get there which was going to cost around three and a half thousand yen for the return tickets. It wasn't a small amount for me to handle at the time, but there was nothing more important than seeing Miku again.

There were two weeks left before the promised day and I spent that time writing a long letter that I wanted to give to Miku. It was probably the first love letter I ever wrote in my life. I wrote in it about the aspiring future, I had thought of, what I liked such as the books I read and the music I listened to and, just how important Miku meant to me – perhaps it really was still just puppy love between us but I stayed honest with my feelings and expressed them as best as I could. I can't quite remember what I wrote, but I think it spanned about eight pages of writing paper. At that time, there were many things I really wanted to say and let Miku know. As long as she read the letter, I had thought I'd be able to endure the days in Kagoshima. It was the part of me; I wanted her to know about.

As I spent those days writing that letter, I dreamt about Miku many times.

In the dream I was a nimble bird. Flapping my wings I flew through the night sky, through a city filled with high rise buildings and railroads. I was thrilled and enthralled with my small little body as I flew at a speed hundreds of times faster than what I could manage running on the ground, flying to that place to meet that special someone. Before long I could see a town, densely packed with lights in the distance, twinkling like stars as I rode the strong night wind, the trains of light running along like veins and arteries. Soon I managed to pierce through the clouds and was flying where the moon illuminated them all from above as if I was above a vast ocean. The transparent blue moonlight made the various peaks of the clouds glow as if it was another planet. I had the power to go anywhere in the world I wanted to and my feathery body was shivering with happiness. As I arrived close to my goal I dived down excitedly, the place where she lived expanding rapidly before my eyes. There were rural fields stretching into the distance, roofs of sparsely populated houses, patches of forest here and there and amongst it all, there was a single streak of light moving. It was a train. I must have been on that train too. And at the platform I caught sight of a girl waiting for that train. The young girl with hair that hung down to her ears was sitting on a bench alone and nearby stood a single large cherry blossom tree. The flowers had yet to blossom, but I could feel a breath of life from within its hard bark. Before long, the young girl noticed my presence and looked up into the sky. Soon we were going to be able to see each other again…


End file.
